The Long Ride Home
by TimeAsunderQ
Summary: Grissom faces a tough decision regarding his CSI extended family and the burden of responsibility falls to him.


Author's Note: I had this random story idea when I started thinking about Lindsey, and how she must feel to have that much time away from her mother. How much of a responsibility do the other CSIs have to her? Are they like an extended family? First CSI fic so please R&R

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any of its characters.

The Long Ride Home

At 2:30 PM they broke for home. Each CSI walked solemnly to their respective car and, under no pretense of cheer, entered it in silence. They had worked a second shift after the incident: investigating, filing, contacting, and for some CSIs, crying.

Gil Grissom started his SUV and left the parking garage, moving at a mourner's pace.

On the drive home he clutched the steering wheel and gasped for air, trying to clear his mind. Pulling over into a parking lot, Grissom weighed his options. Up until now the scenario had never occurred to him. What would the proper protocol be?

_Protocol aside, what is the right thing to do?_ His mind raced while he analyzed all the facts, wrapping his mind around a simple fact, a relatively simple situation.

Catherine Willows was dead. And Lindsey, her daughter, was at school, blissfully unaware.

Warrick contacted Catherine's sister at roughly half past eight in the morning, immediately after the DOA was called, letting her know the bare minimum of facts until the investigation could be completed. The woman had raced to the crime lab to demand more information. In reality what she demanded was a miracle. The reversal of time, the healing of wounds, a resurrection performed by Gil Grissom himself, the miracle worker. She had almost gone to the elementary school after that, but Nick convinced her to let Lindsey have the day pain-free.

_Let her have her day. The last day of innocence she'll ever know. Cath wouldn't want her to find out like that anyway... A frantic aunt, showing up tear-streaked and stone-faced to pick up her daughter, only to awkwardly inform her that her mother is dead. No, that's not the right thing to do._

A part of his mind registered that perhaps it was better to let Lindsey's aunt deal with her, as his title of "Uncle Grissom" was only ceremonial at best.

Grissom removed his glasses, closed his eyes, and fiercely rubbed them until he made his decision. Roughly turning the key in the ignition, he pulled out of the parking lot and changed course, heading towards Lindsey's school and simultaneously dialing her aunt's cell number.

At 2:53 PM, Gil Grissom parked his dark SUV at the side entrance of the elementary school. Stepping out, he glanced skyward as if beseeching a certain someone to make his task easier. Grissom leaned against the vehicle in hopes that he wouldn't topple over under the pressure. For the time being, his car was the only thing keeping him upright and the need to appear brave for Lindsey the only thing keeping him from crumpling to the ground.

_There is a time for sorrow and grief. This is not that time._

At 3:04 PM, Lindsey burst out of the bright red doors, along with dozens of her classmates. They all spilled out of the school as though a dam had burst; all were hyperactive, cheerful and well...

_Alive. Their lives are so strong and..._ He cut himself off before his mind was stuck on that track. That was the problem about being an INTJ with an over-analytical mindset. His train of thought was one-way only, 24-7.

"Lindsey! Lindsey!!!" He called out, and beckoned her over to him. Lindsey scanned her surroundings for whoever was calling her name. As soon as the furrow of concentration disappeared, she beamed and charged over to him.

"Uncle Grissom!!!!!" Lindsey leapt up to hug him and he caught her gracefully, giving her a short squeeze in return. Taking her backpack from her shoulders, he knelt down.

"Lindsey, there's something we need to talk about. I'm going to take you home today as a... a treat. We can go get ice cream if you want." Grissom tried to bribe her into accepting his appearance as commonplace. As she once again looked ponderous, her baby teeth biting her tiny lower lip (_She looks so much like her mother..._), he worried that the persuasion might not have worked. After all, his people skills weren't quite up to par. Especially when it came to children...

"No thank you Uncle Grissom, mommy said we'd have ice cream tonight after dinner. Mommy's making something special and it's gonna be good!" She paused, not seeing her "uncle" swallow a lump in his throat. "Maybe you can come over too! I'm sure she wouldn't mind, and it would be so fun to..."

He had to cut her off, he couldn't take much more of it.

"No thank you... Lindsey." Grissom pursed his lips. "Come on kiddo, get in the car, I'll take you home."

There was an awkward moment of silence as the two got into the SUV. Grissom helped Lindsey into the backseat, buckling her securely into the rear-center seat. Once she was buckled down he circled the vehicle and sat down in the driver's seat. He turned on the car and slowly eased the vehicle out of the parking spot, allowing the tank-wielding mothers to leave first. Licking his lips, he opened his mouth to broach the subject but all that came out was "So, Lindsey, how was your day?"

That simple question opened the floodgates. A continuous stream of adjectives poured out, occasionally sprinkled with nouns and verbs. The girl's optimism was contagious and he couldn't help but smile dryly at her description of their science class activity. After a moment though, her similarities to Catherine came pouring back and his smile went flat, fading into nothing along with the wave of happiness Lindsey provided.

Soon enough the dark SUV pulled up to Catherine's house and Grissom's stomach did a flip flop. He still hadn't broken the news to her and now he was supposed to turn her over to her aunt. Grissom swiftly unbuckled himself, then turned around to face Lindsey, who had unbuckled herself and reached for her backpack.

"Lindsey... (his breath caught and she sat back down) There's something you need to know."

"What's wrong Uncle Grissom? Don't be sad!"

"Lindsey, today your mother was in an accident. Some bad people... they hurt her."

A look of terror crossed the girl's face immediately. As soon as it appeared, it was gone and Lindsey spoke up in an even voice. "Uncle Grissom. Where's my mommy?"

He didn't know if he wanted to throw up or cry or scream or, perhaps, all three. Grissom's heart turned over at the knowing tone of the little girl's words.

"Lindsey. Your mother... Catherine... is gone. She was taken, in the line of duty, protecting good people from harm. From now on your aunt will take care of you." Lindsey's face crumpled, and tears welled up. Seeing that look, he held up his hands in placation, hoping to hold off the tide of sorrow. "Now... now one thing I can promise you though. I will find the people who did this to her. I will find them and I will put them away. Justice will be served and... nothing like this will happen to you." He reached out to her, taking her small hands in his. "Honey, I promise you that."

Lindsey, sobbing, pulled her hands from his and slid out of the SUV. Her aunt, red-eyed and pale-skinned, stood waiting on the front porch. Grissom felt rejected but analyzed this objectively (as an exercise only).

_Rejection? What did you expect from an 8 year old girl? "Ok Uncle Grissom, my mommy is dead. I'm fine with living with my aunt forever. Thanks for telling me?" Now she knows, and her aunt can deal with the disbelief and grief from there. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross classified the 5 separate stages of grief. The first stage... Denial._

He looked up to see Lindsey collapse into her aunt's arms. The woman locked eyes with him and they briefly empathized. The moment passed; Grissom cranked the SUV, backed out of the driveway and made his way home.

He did the right thing.

_The second stage... Anger_.

It was not over.

End Note: One alternate beginning to this story (slightly fanciful) that I thought of was: "Lil girl, lil girl, your mom's dead! Get in the car!" Hehehe. Alternately, this was my first CSI fic, so meh, I need constructive criticism. No flames please, but I would like people to R&R to help me out.


End file.
